


Bound Tight and Confident

by InsaneRedDragon



Series: The Ink On Our Skin Stains Us Black - Vignettes and Timestamps [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Insecure Harry, M/M, Photography, Rope Bondage, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneRedDragon/pseuds/InsaneRedDragon
Summary: He laid his hand on Harry’s thigh and waited until he turned to look at him. “Do ye have any idea just how beautiful ye are like this? Without your suit as armor, relaxed in a way no one ever sees outside of this house?” Harry looked away again, spine going stiff at the words. “I don’t think you really do.”
Lachlan took his hand off Harry’s leg and picked up his camera, returning it to his bag on the floor. “I won’t take your picture, Harry, as long as you don’t want me to.”
--
A vignette set 25 years before the events of The Ink On Our Skin Stains Us Black





	

**Author's Note:**

> So many of you are patiently waiting for the next chapter of The Ink On Our Skin Stains Us Black, and I apologize for the wait. But when I went to start writing it, I realized I had no solid footing on Harry's headspace and the issues V-Day had brought back to the surface. This fic was my way of diving into some of Harry's insecurities and how Merlin helped him deal with them early on in their relationship.
> 
> Things it's helpful to know before starting:   
> This is set roughly 25 years before The Ink On Our Skin Stains Us Black (you can find a detailed timeline [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1q95ox1Y6eceCWgKL7aJ9Ixxp2EdnLeyS_OpyfANp34U/pub) if you are curious).   
> You don't need to have read The Ink On Our Skin Stains Us Black to understand this fic. It should stand alone.  
> Merlin's real name is Lachlan Grey.  
> At this point in time, Merlin has not yet been given the position of Merlin. He was initially a handler, and then convinced the head of R&D to allow him time to work in the lab as well. He works in both departments, splitting his time and expertise.  
> (If you read this on tumblr as I posted it, you'll notice the change from Merlin to Lachlan. It was driving me crazy since he's not yet Merlin, so I've changed it here for accuracy and my sanity.)
> 
> As is usual for my fic, not beta'd or brit picked.

Getting his picture taken was something that he had always disliked, even before he had become a spy. Harry had hated it when school photos came around, or at the holidays when one aunt or another would insist on a family photo. His mother would attempt to tame his unruly waves with a spit slicked hand, and his father would clap him between the shoulders and remind him to keep his back straight. People telling him to  _ smile now, dear _ always made him want to roll his eyes and scowl.

After joining Kingsman, it was normal to keep from being photographed while on missions. His handler could always send a cleanup crew to take care of anything that Harry couldn’t avoid, but it was a point of pride that they rarely had to. Harry found it quite easy to evade the cameras, turning away to help someone or offering to take the picture for them. It was harder to avoid in his personal relationships, but either his partners weren’t around long enough for it to be an issue or he bribed Lachlan to help him clean up there as well.

And then somewhere along the way, Lachlan and Harry started a relationship and Lachlan had suddenly taken out his camera and asked if he could take Harry’s picture. Harry froze, eyes narrowed at the floor and shoulders tense. “It’s rather unnecessary, don’t you think? And more than a little risky.”

He placed the camera down on the coffee table carefully and turned on the couch to face Harry. “I won’t, of course, if yeh don’t want me to. But ye know that they’ll be as safe as any other Kingsman information I have. Probably more so, since you and I would be the only ones to know of their existence.” 

He laid his hand on Harry’s thigh and waited until he turned to look at him. “Do ye have any idea just how beautiful ye are like this? Without your suit as armor, relaxed in a way no one ever sees outside of this house?” Harry looked away again, spine going stiff at the words. “I don’t think you really do.”

Lachlan took his hand off Harry’s leg and picked up his camera, returning it to his bag on the floor. “I won’t take your picture, Harry, as long as you don’t want me to.”

And so it was. Lachlan didn’t mention it again. But Harry would watch him now with his camera, when they both had time away from Kingsman. He could feel Lachlan’s eyes on him as he set up the shots, but he was always careful to make sure that Harry was never in the frame as he took the picture.

It was months later, and they both had the night off. Outside, the sky was clearing. The remnants of the unexpected rain that had kept them from a post dinner stroll dripped down the windows. Inside, Harry sat in the armchair next to the fireplace, Lachlan’s copy of Beowulf open in his lap. From the corner of his eye he could just catch Lachlan’s shape on the couch, making adjustments to his camera. Every once in awhile, he would look up and stare at Harry before returning to his work.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat. “You can,” he murmured, without looking up.

Lachlan paused and looked up at Harry, who pretended to keep reading his book. “Can what?”

“Take the picture.” He heard Lachlan’s sharp intake of air, and continued. “Just...I won’t pose for you. Take it if you want, but I won’t stop what I’m doing to...masquerade or some nonsense.”

Lachlan scooped up his camera, and was suddenly kneeling just to the side of Harry’s chair, adjusting his lense. “Never. I want yeh just as ye are. Don’t move.”

Harry kept his gaze down towards his book, his face as impassive as it’d been while he’d read. But his heartbeat seemed to thunder in his ears, and it wasn’t until he heard the click of the shutter that he realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly through his nose and then caught Lachlan pushing himself up from his crouch, camera left discarded on the hardwood floor.

“Just the one?”

“Aye, just the one. Thank ye, Harry.” He took the remaining few steps towards the chair and then leaned down to press two fingers under Harry’s chin. Lachlan tilted Harry’s head up to meet his eyes, and Harry was stunned for a moment at the look of awe and pride on his face. “I’ll only ever take yer photo when ye say I can. And if this is the only photo I ever get of yeh, I will still be the luckiest man. Yer gorgeous. Thank ye.”

Harry closed his eyes at the compliments. He didn’t understand what Lachlan saw when he looked at him. Stripped of his bespoke suit and gelled hair, instead in a jumper with holes in the elbows and his hair a mess of waves, Harry was just another average bloke, only with weird hobbies and most likely a substantially shorter lifespan.

Harry was jarred from his thoughts as Lachlan’s lips brushed against his in a fleeting kiss. “Come now, I feel like torturing myself. Go choose one of yer ridiculous rom-coms to watch and I’ll get ye some popcorn.” 

He kissed Harry’s forehead before turning to put away his camera and go to the kitchen. Harry watched his retreating form, strong shoulders and firm arse, and questioned not for the first time what he’d done right to keep this one.

After that, there were instances now where Harry would mutter a soft note of permission and Lachlan would pull out his camera and take a single photo of Harry before pressing him with kisses and reminders of how perfect he was. 

There was no pattern to when Harry felt brave enough for one of Lachlan’s photos (and on the occasions Harry found himself drunk, he was honest enough to admit to himself that he was a coward, at least when it came to this), except that it never occurred during anything Kingsman related. There was a silent agreement between them that the mask that Harry was forced to wear in the name of Kingsman was not the Harry either of them sought to capture.

The next two years passed in a blur of missions and respite together. Lachlan only took Harry's photo when he was explicitly given permission, and he rarely ever asked, preferring Harry to be the one to make the implicit request. But gradually Harry's consent came more often, with less tension writ on his breath while he waited for the shutter to click.

Initially, Lachlan had developed and stored the photos at HQ. Harry understood the necessity, but found the uncomfortableness of it nagged at him. Then, shortly after Harry had the basement converted to a darkroom for their anniversary, Lachlan had a Kingsman safe installed in their bedroom. Ostensibly it was to store sensitive Kingsman tech that Lachlan decided to work on from home, but Harry knew that its primary purpose was to house the small collection of photos that Lachlan was amassing. He wiped the standard Kingsman protocols and installed his own personal ones, that gave only Lachlan and Harry access, or incinerated everything inside. 

The night Lachlan had done the wipe Harry had laid on his side of their bed, wrapped up in his dressing gown and little else, watching Lachlan’s back as he typed away on his portable terminal.

“You know, considering you just convinced Lucas to let you help them in R&D, I don’t think he’s going to be pleased by you doing whatever it is you are doing to that safe,” Harry commented.

Lachlan grunted in acknowledgement as he finished up his typing and disconnected. “Well, let’s hope there is never an occasion for him to find out, shall we.”

He tucked away the terminal, and stood up from the closet where the safe sat off to the side. Harry watched as he turned around and Lachlan’s eyes caught on his chest, exposed along the deep v of the robe he hadn’t quite closed. He recognized the twinkle in Lachlan’s eye and gave his head a single, firm nod. A pleased smile emerged on Lachlan’s face as he stepped out into the hall to retrieve the camera from his office.

Harry let his head drop to the pillow and closed his eyes while he waited for Lachlan’s return. The stillness of the room had his body relaxing, drifting into a haze of half sleep. Minutes later, he heard the quiet footfalls that told of Lachlan entering to the room, and the corners of his lips twitched up. A beat passed, and then the click of the camera shutter broke through the silence. Harry didn’t move as Lachlan shuffled around the room, listening to the sounds of him setting down his camera and stripping off his clothes to set on the armchair.

The bed dipped as he climbed in and lay on his side, sliding one arm under Harry’s pillow and the other coming up around his waist. Lachlan’s hand slipped inside the open flap of the robe and spread warmth through Harry’s chest from where it lay.

“Thank ye, Harry,” Lachlan breathed along the shell of his ear. “Look at you, so soft and relaxed here in our bed, just stunning. I’m honoured that ye let me see yeh like this.”

Harry rolled over and buried his face into Lachlan’s neck. It was getting easier to hear the compliments, but Harry still couldn’t look him in the eye while he did.

Lachlan reached over him to turn off the bedside lamp, and Harry let his cool breath and slow heartbeat ease him the rest of the way down into sleep.

Lachlan’s collection of photos steadily grew, and it seemed as though every picture brought Harry closer to some needed revelation about himself. The more he let Lachlan capture his unguarded moments, the more comfortable he felt wearing his mask of a perfect gentleman for everyone else.

Lachlan began affectionately calling him peacock in and out of the shop, a reflection of the attention he was drawing now. The first time he called him his  _ pet _ peacock, Lachlan had two fingers inside him, rubbing unerringly against his prostate and making him quickly lose his control. Harry had keened at the words, hips canting up and knees spreading further apart.

“Ye like that then? Being my pet, on display for me like this?” Lachlan's voice was rough, as though he were the one being slowly taken apart, and not Harry. He strained against the rope tying his arms to the bed as he tried to buck up farther onto Lachlan's fingers. A crimson flush wound its way down Harry’s neck and chest at the thought of it, being like this for Lachlan.

“Fuck, Harry, you don’t realize just how gorgeous ye are when yer a mess in my hands.” Lachlan pushed Harry’s knees up to his chest with his free hand. “How badly do yeh want my cock?”

Harry gasped harshly, words stuck in his throat, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Instead he rocked his hips as high as they would go, straining against the ropes. His legs quaked with the strain as he pulled them tighter to his chest, spread them wider. Harry’s cock lay hot and hard against his stomach, precome dripping down into a growing pool with each press of Lachlan's fingers inside him. It was a wanton display, and for once Harry didn’t care how he looked, only that he could show Lachlan how much he needed him.

“Look at yeh, pet, how desperate ye are. All yer walls and masks set aside.” Lachlan picked up the bottle by his knee and poured lube onto his palm and watched as it dripped between his fingers into Harry’s waiting body. Harry’s sucked in a breath through his teeth at the feeling of the cool liquid. Lachlan tossed the bottle back to the bed and smoothly pushed in another finger. “I should take yer picture like this, on display just for me. Falling apart and held together with only my rope and my hands.”

At the words, Harry tensed and let out a strangled moan. He thought about how he would look, bound and held in place solely for Lachlan’s eyes. To bare and present himself like that for Lachlan’s camera.

Lachlan ran the fingers of his other hand over the ropes on Harry’s biceps as he continued to spread and stretch him. “I’d need a better color. Perhaps grey, or dark blue. Ye’ve always looked stunning in grey.”

The words that had been caught in Harry’s throat finally broke free at the feeling of Lachlan’s fingers tugging sharply at his bindings. “Please, Lachlan. Christ, I need you. Please, please.” Lachlan crooked his fingers one last time then slowly removed them from Harry. He whined at the loss, planting his feet flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up in a vain attempt to draw Lachlan back in.

“Hush now, pet. Ye are so perfect for me, I’ll give ye what you need.” Lachlan drizzled more lube onto his hand and reached down to coat his cock. Harry watched, chest heaving as he focused on Lachlan’s hand as he stroked himself once, twice.

And then Lachlan was leaning over him, one hand pressed to the mattress near his head, the other guiding himself to Harry’s twitching hole. Harry’s body flared with pleasure as Lachlan sank slowly into him, letting him adjust to his cock.

Lachlan stopped when he was flush against the inside of Harry’s thighs, bollocks pressed hot and heavy against him. Harry groaned deep in his chest at the feeling. He tugged against the ropes again, the muscles in his forearms bulging as he instinctively tried to reach for Lachlan. 

They laid like that for several moments, Lachlan’s forehead pressed to Harry’s as they both gasped for breath, Harry’s muscles tensing and then relaxing until his body finally gave in and melted back into the mattress.

“Yes, Harry, just like that.” A nip to Harry’s bottom lip was all the warning he got before Lachlan pulled nearly out and thrust back in, hard.

A cry escaped Harry and then Lachlan was setting a brutal pace, fucking into him hard and fast. Still propped up with one hand, Lachlan took Harry’s cock in the other and stroked him in time with his thrusts. “I’d capture ye like this, forever on display for me. Mine, Harry, yer perfect and mine.”

The words were the tipping point, and with a strangled moan Harry was coming, every spasm painting his chest and gripping Lachlan tight inside him. After that it only took a few more thrusts before Lachlan followed suit, filling Harry up and marking him as Lachlan’s. 

Later, after Lachlan had untied and cleaned him, they were wrapped up together in bed. Harry laid on his stomach, face pressed into Lachlan’s neck and his leg thrown up and over Lachlan’s thighs, Lachlan’s arm curled around him. Harry closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Lachlan’s neck in a reverent kiss before speaking, barely a whisper. “I want that. To be on display for you, for your camera.“

Lachlan pressed a kiss to Harry’s head, pulling him in closer. “Later. Sleep now, Harry.”

Later turned out to be in 87 days, shortly after Harry came home from a recon mission that had gone sideways. His cover had been blown and Kingsman had been forced to send in a senior Knight to clean things up. Harry had been removed from active duty for three weeks to “brush up on his cover skills”. Harry was livid, mostly at himself, and had spent the first few days running training courses at HQ. 

He’d come home exhausted, at an even later hour than what Lachlan had started keeping in the lab. He’d stay up, locked in his office until he heard Lachlan go to bed. Then he’d slip in, curled on his side and away from Lachlan’s worried eyes. Normally mornings consisted of Harry attempting to sleep late and Lachlan having none of it, pulling the blankets off of him and kissing away his protests. Instead, he’d been getting up early, slipping away without waking Lachlan, to shower and eat alone and head straight back to the mansion. Lachlan didn’t say anything to him, but Harry knew that eventually he’d be unable to avoid a confrontation. 

Nine days in, Harry found himself standing in Arthur's office as the man berated him for hacking into the latest mission feeds. He’d needed to see the other knights, see firsthand how they snuck and fought and deceived. He’d needed to know he belonged in their ranks.

“Enough, Harry. Take the rest of the day and go home. Find some perspective. I'll expect you in better form tomorrow, or you'll have more to worry about than being forced to freshen up on your skills.” He’d clenched his fists and just managed to bite his tongue from telling Arthur off. With a curt nod, Harry left the office and started the trip back to the Mews.

He hadn’t been surprised when he arrived home to hear Lachlan calling to him from the bedroom. The coils of rope that lay at the foot of the bed were familiar, as was Lachlan waiting in the armchair for his arrival. What wasn’t, however, was the tripod set up and out of the way in the corner.

Harry paused just inside the door and stared into the corner. Lachlan’s brusque voice brought him back to himself. “Harry. Come sit with me please.”

Realizing he had tensed up, he forced his shoulders to drop as he walked over to the other chair and sat down. “Hello, darling. I didn't expect you to be home so early. I thought you were handling Gawain’s mission in Paris today.” Harry crossed his legs and looked across the room, wishing he had stopped to get a glass of scotch before he'd sat down.

“I traded out with Thomas. I don't need to be back at HQ until the morning. Now, stop avoiding me. Ye know we need to talk about the mission.” 

Harry’s lips thinned, and he pointedly turned away from Lachlan's searching eyes. “I don't know what it is that you think we need to discuss. I fucked up the mission and now I'm off of active duty. I'm certainly not going to let it happen again.”

Lachlan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and hooked his finger under Harry’s chin. Cautiously, he turned Harry’s head, so he was forced to look in Lachlan’s eyes. “Yer  _ mission _ found a crack in yer mask and wormed his way underneath and ye broke. Ye ran away rather than find a way to turn yer vulnerability to yer advantage.”

With a deep sigh, Lachlan removed his hand from Harry’s face to rub it over his own. Harry’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he fought to hold his tongue against the words that wanted to spill out.

“Harry, yeh don’t need to be ashamed of who you are or hide yerself so desperately. This whole mess has ye falling apart and hiding even from me. Yer forgetting how good it feels to be vulnerable for someone. Let me remind ye, please.”

As much as Harry wanted to to lash out and tell Lachlan to let him be, there was a small part hidden away that was yearning, desperate to do as Lachlan asked. To let him in. To bare his vulnerabilities and let Lachlan turn his ugliness into beauty.

There was a long pause, stillness filling their bedroom as Harry warred with himself. Finally, Harry took his glasses off and ran his hand through his gelled curls. His hair in disarray, he slumped back in his chair, glasses set to the side. “And how do you propose to do that?”

Lachlan mouth twitched slightly as he settled back, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I had hoped ye’d allow me to tie you up and take yer picture.”

Heat curled low in his belly and Harry swallowed roughly. He glanced again at the rope coiled on the bed, and to the tripod in the corner. Why not, he thought to himself. Something had to change, he knew. He  _ was  _ falling apart, and he couldn’t afford that as a Kingsman knight. And if there was anyone that could put him back together, it was Lachlan.

Decided, Harry’s jaw gained a determined set and he looked full on back at Lachlan. His firm nod was met with a soft exhale from Lachlan. “Good. Go shower, and take as much time as ye need. I want ye relaxed as much as possible when ye come out. Don't get dressed. Ye will lay on yer stomach on the bed and wait for me. Alright?”

Harry nodded again before standing and heading to the ensuite. A tendril of unease thread it’s way through the heat blooming in his gut as he scrubbed himself in the shower. Harry knew he was apt to start overthinking everything, to start doubting Lachlan’s careful planning, so he forced his thoughts to the present and the task at hand. 

The shower was quick, just long enough to wash away the grime of the mornings training and to ease some of the tension from his overworked muscles. He exited the ensuite trailing a cloud of steam. The room was empty as Harry walked to the bed to lay down. He guessed Lachlan was in the basement, making sure everything was set up so he could develop the photos as soon as they were done. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a long, slow breath as he settled on the bed to wait for Lachlan to return.

Lachlan didn’t keep him waiting long. As he entered the room, Harry cracked open one of his eyes and watched as Lachlan went straight to the corner to start making adjustments to the camera and tripod.

As Lachlan worked, Harry’s eyes shifted to the window. The early afternoon light streamed in past the open blinds to warm the rug next to the bed, dust motes dancing in the air. “The timing for this is perfect. The lighting couldn’t be any better,” Lachlan’s said, as if reading his mind.

With a final glance through the viewfinder, Lachlan stepped away from the camera and towards the bed. He sat on the side, near Harry’s hip, and placed his hand on the back of Harry’s calf. The touch was grounding, and Harry took a deep breath before looking away from the window to smile at Lachlan.

“Hello, pet,” Lachlan murmured, and a shiver ran down Harry’s spine. He gave Harry’s leg a squeeze before letting go and leaning back to grab the bundles of rope. “I’ll be tying a chest harness, and yer arms will be bound to yer legs. Tell me your word.”

“Brogues,” Harry breathes.

“We’ll stop anytime ye need to, just say the word. Are ye ready for us to begin?”

“Yes, Lachlan.”

Lachlan stood from the bed and began unwinding the coil of grey rope, letting the resting end trail across the base of Harry’s spine and the swell of his arse. “We’ll start with the harness.” With a well practiced hand, Lachlan began wrapping the rope around Harry’s torso. The feeling was familiar, something they had done many times in the past, and Harry quickly let himself fall into the sensations.

Lachlan was careful, pausing frequently to ask Harry to shift his shoulders or to check if the strands were pinching. The rope was smooth but it gripped his skin in just the right way, the friction leaving bright red marks, but never from pain. When the chest harness was done, Lachlan had Harry stand up and stretch his limbs. He did so hazily, Lachlan’s warm hand pressed between the rope at the base of his spine to keep him steady.

Then Lachlan was laying him back on the bed, face against the mattress with his knees pulled high and wide, arse in the air and his arms laying down along his sides. Lachlan was quick to start tying his arms to his calves. Harry could see the blue rope as Lachlan worked it along his arms, and he could picture how the color would look against the grey rope where Lachlan connected the ends to the harness at his hips.

With a final tug, Lachlan tied off the last of the resting end. He set a fingertip against the sole of Harry’s foot and let it trail up and over the ropes as he walked to the head of the bed. He bent down and pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple before stepping back. “Oh, Harry, ye are stunning.” 

Lachlan’s voice contained nothing but awe and pride. Harry felt his face go red, and he moved his head to press into the cool sheets on the other side of the bed. The fuzziness that had crept in as he was tied began to recede as he heard Lachlan step towards the corner. Harry’s heart began to beat faster as Lachlan walked back and forth from the camera, making adjustments to first the lense and then his body.

After a few minutes Lachlan’s fiddling stopped, and Harry struggled not to squirm. The pressure of the ropes sunk deep into his skin, anchoring him in place on the bed and in his mind. Goosebumps raised along his flank and down across his thighs in the wake of a tingle that was certain to be Lachlan’s gaze.

“Am I… is this how you want me?”

Harry tried to turn and look over his shoulder, but was stopped mid way through the action when his arms caught on the ropes. He huffed, and strained, and then returned to pressing his flushed cheeks into the cool sheets.

Lachlan’s voice was gruff, his brogue rumbling deep, when he responded, “Aye, pet, just like that. Don't move.” He adjusted the lens once more, and then the loud click of the shutter reverberated through the room.

The sound acted like a jolt of electricity, twisting something tight inside his chest. Harry’s thoughts turned to the man behind him, and he realized just how much he wanted this, needed this.

“God, yer gorgeous.” Lachlan adjusted the camera and then the shutter snapped again. “I would keep yeh like this everyday if I could.” Harry’s breath started coming faster, the tightness growing worse as he heard the shutter clicking. “But I’d miss all the other ways ye are as well. The man whose hair goes wild when not tamed, that I want to run my hands through. The man who wears the softest jumpers, that I want to wrap my arms around.”

While he spoke, Lachlan continued to take more photos. Taking the camera off the tripod, he’d approached the bed and kneeled at the side. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye as he felt himself turn red down his chest and back. It was a struggle to listen to Lachlan list off all the things Harry hated about himself in that tone of voice, like Harry was something precious to be treasured.

“I’d miss ye pinning yer bugs and organizing yer cufflinks. I wouldn't get to see the look ye get when you don’t know something, or the twitch in yer jaw when someone else is cooking in yer kitchen.” Lachlan looked through the camera, framed a shot that must have captured Harry’s wide eyes and bitten lips, and pressed the button. “All the things only I get to see that make me love yeh even more.”

Harry felt the tightness in his chest snap. The camera was left on the rug, discarded and forgotten, as an ugly, wet sob fell past Harry’s lips. It was like a floodgate had opened, and Harry let it all out, all the pain and insecurities. He scrunched his eyes shut as his muscles went tight. Snot and tears smeared across the sheets where he rubbed his face into them.

Lachlan kneeled on the floor beside him, one hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently stroking the hair there. The fingers of the other entwined with Harry’s, holding tight. He pressed his cheek to Harry’s arm as he spoke, his breath ghosting over the trembling muscles. “Wear yer mask for everyone else, for the mission, for Kingsman. But don't be ashamed of who ye really are, Harry, of the man I love.”

A fresh wave tears came, and Lachlan held Harry through it, murmuring praise into his skin. He couldn’t hear the words over his own whimpers and sobs, but he understood the tone, and it filled his chest with warmth. They stayed that way until Harry’s tears slowed and he sagged to the bed, face completely buried in the sheets and chest heaving. Lachlan quickly and efficiently untied the rope, pulling it away from Harry’s calves and wrists. Gently he rubbed circles into Harry’s skin while feeling slowly came back.

He leaned over and pressed his nose to Harry’s hair, whispered how perfect and how proud of him he was. How beautiful he was. Lachlan pulled the last of the rope away and stretched Harry’s limbs straight, rolling him onto his back away from the wet spot on the sheets. He pulled a blanket from the trunk at the end of the bed and wrapped Harry in it, brushing back the hair stuck to his forehead. His hands felt cool against Harry’s skin.

Lachlan assured him he was only going to get him something to drink and stepped away from the bed and towards the ensuite. Harry stared at the ceiling and listened to Lachlan moving in the other room. As his breathing slowed and his heart settled, he realized that there was a lightness to his chest. A smile crept over his features, and Harry huffed out a grateful laugh as Lachlan came back in with a tall glass of water.

Lachlan looked at him as he helped Harry sit up and take the glass, and then he broke out in his own answering grin.

Harry took several large gulps, glad for the cool water on his parched throat. “Thank you, Lachlan. For all of it. You...” Harry faltered, unable to find the right words for how much he had needed what Lachlan had provided.

“Of course, pet.” Lachlan interrupted. “We should talk, about all of it, but that can wait until later. First, a nap, then some dinner. Thai perhaps?” He took Harry's empty glass and set it on the night stand, then lifted the blanket and crawled in next to him.

“You’re still dressed,” Harry mumbled as he rolled to his side and pressed his back against Lachlan’s chest. His eyes drifted across the room and landed on the camera lying on the floor. He knew, later that night, Lachlan would take it down to the darkroom and process the photos. Now, with his mind finally clear of his self doubt, he wondered what the pictures would look like. His cock twitched as he imagined Lachlan’s expression at the finished images, his eyes dark with want. 

From behind him, Lachlan threw his arm over Harry’s chest and kissed the back of his neck.  and he knew it would wait. So Harry relaxed, letting out a contented sigh as his eyes slipped shut. For the first time, he felt no need to get up and put himself to sorts before he could sleep. He felt safe and accepted and whole.

“It’s alright,” Lachlan whispered into Harry’s hair. “I’ll change after we nap. Sleep now, my beautiful peacock. Sweet dreams.”

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**Author's Note:**

> Come join me on [my tumblr](http://insanereddragon.tumblr.com) for story snippets and other fandom goodness.


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